Potions Lesson
by Lea Anberlyn
Summary: Oneshot. Slash. HPDM. Draco likes Potions a little too much in Harry's very humble opinion.


They came, they invaded, they're stubborn as hell and so they stayed. Hopefully they'll leave again soon but until then . . .

**Rating**: M to be safe

**Spoilers**: Nothing of any relevance. Set somewhere in an alternative Seventh Year.

**Warnings**: AU. Implied sex/strong language etc.

**Summary**: Draco likes to sprout off Potions Ingredients during sex – a fact that really annoys Harry.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the characters herein, nor do I claim them for my own. They belong to J.K.Rowling, Bloomsbury, W.B etc. and that is probably a good thing.

Harry knows there has to be something decidedly wrong about the repetitive litany streaming through his right ear. After all, everyone knows that Malfoys do not fuck Potters even though this particular Malfoy had his cock so far up this Potters' ass that he could swear it had to be at least thirty inches long – although he knew that was quite impossible – and Malfoys especially do not fuck Potters whilst whispering _potions ingredients_ as if they were sweet nothings.

Harry thinks that Malfoy believes them to actually be a turn-on – which they aren't, far from it in fact – and Harry wants to tell Malfoy to just shut up and get on with fucking him already but so far he hasn't had the heart to burst the other boy's daydreams. Mainly because he has the idea that if he does he'd be left on his own with a hearty erection and no way of getting rid of it. No, he thinks, it's much better to keep his silence.

But still, there is something decidedly strange about a boy yelling things like 'Boomslang skin', 'bezoar' and, possibly most disturbing, 'Bundimun Secretion'. It's not that Harry hates Potions, it's simply that whilst he is being shagged to within an inch of his life in a forgotten classroom on the Second Floor he doesn't necessarily want the Potions lesson which Malfoy – or Draco – seems intent on giving him.

Harry is either monumentally stupid or extremely brave as he keeps his mouth shut whilst Draco spews out various instructions on how to make a Blood Replenishing Potion – all whilst stroking up and down Harry's cock until he feels fit to burst. It's only when Draco asks him to repeat the instructions that he floats down from his cloud and falls flat onto the ground with something like the weight of an over-sized Hippogriff keeping him there.

It takes a lot of energy – too much energy – and concentration for Harry to finally glimmer just what the hell Draco is on about and by that time Draco has slipped out of him and has somehow moved to sit opposite him, looking across at him in a highly peeved matter. Actually, Harry notices as he looks at the narrowed eyebrows and flashing grey eyes, 'pissed' is probably a better term to describe him.

"Potter!" Malfoy cries, "Were you listening to anything I said?"

Harry simply blinks at him – the word 'no' on the tip of his tongue just barely swallowed – as Malfoy pets down his ridiculously gelled hair and crosses his robes in front of himself in an impressive Snape-like way – which Harry decides is most definitely not-sexy. At all. Except maybe a little part of him that has always had those Teacher-Student fantasies that were best left behind closed curtains in his Dormitories. Draco's glare even seems to take on a Snape-like quality and it makes him seem all the more imposing as he leans across the desk and taps impatiently at the book that is set in between them. Harry is rather annoyed at the fact that even though mere minutes ago – according to his rather vivid imagination – Malfoy had him bent over the desk he looks perfectly well groomed and respectful. And he is still tapping the book that Harry really should have read but forgot about completely before rushing down to his tutoring lessons with Malfoy—

Wait, what?

"Potter!" Malfoy shouts again, and this time he reaches out to grab Harry's collar and pulls him forward. Harry is all to pleased to follow and ends up with his nose making hard contact with the table as Malfoy shoves his head against the desk.

"Ow," he says pathetically.

"Ow is right Potter. I can understand why the Mudblood gave up the prospect of tutoring you herself, you're absolutely hopeless."

This is the sort of thing that makes Harry wish that Malfoy's pouting, pink-coloured mouth were occupied by something else – like, say, his cock. This, Harry thinks, is a much better way to spend their time than insulting Harry's friends. Not that he, Harry, insults his friends in any way. Quite the opposite. A fact which he proves by sticking his nose in the air and ignoring Malfoy's smirk – which actually looks rather sexy from this angle – as the other boy raps his knuckles against the desk.

This motion brings Harry's attention to Malfoy's hands and he continues to gaze at the long-fingered, perfectly manicured fingers before Malfoy removes them from eyesight to replace them with glaring eyes.

"Potter! I am here to teach you Potions, I will not sit here whilst you daydream. I could be engaged in a scintillating game of Exploding Snap right now instead of having to drum knowledge into your thick skull." He then goes on to name all of Harry's misgivings which Harry mostly tunes out as he watches the way Malfoy mouths his words, his tongue curling as he pronounces each syllable. He finds this so fascinating in fact that he misses when Malfoy abruptly reaches out and shuts the book. It's only when the resounding slam reaches his ears that he wakes enough to see Malfoy standing up.

"I am leaving Potter," Malfoy is saying all important like, as if he has any other place to go on a Saturday evening when everyone else it at Hogsmeade. "I am going and I am leaving you here on your own until you can pay attention . . ."

"I am!" Harry replies, reddening slightly in indignation at the idea of his _not_ paying attention. After all, if he weren't paying attention then how could he have noticed that whenever Malfoy stands his cloak shifts deliciously over his pert behind and then slides over his thighs to swish around his legs as he moves. It makes Harry lick his lips and move just slightly on his seat as a strange, almost tormenting pleasure builds within him.

It isn't fair, he decides, that he should be so affected when Malfoy is not. After all, _he_ isn't the one interrupting Malfoy's daydreams by sprouting off a series of ingredients that he isn't sure even exist. In fact, he would bet all of the Sickles currently stashed under his bed that Malfoy is simply lying to him.

Whilst he is thinking of this his mind comes across a plan. He stems for a few moments, thinking over and over of how it is so unfair and that he should do something to remedy the situation. And so he does.

- - - - -

Draco doesn't quite know how it happened but one minute he was sure he was leaving and the next he was sprawled out like some kind of Virgin sacrifice with Harry Freaking Potter looking at him with a decidedly hungry look in his eye.

He grins – which is really a smirk but at the moment he is too occupied to pay attention to the finer details. All he can think is that Potter is the most obtuse person he has ever had the great dissatisfaction of knowing. Did Harry not realise that Draco knows? And had known for a while? Did he not know that a Malfoy sees everything and this particular Malfoy can see all there is to see regarding the Boy-Who-Daydreamed-About-Sex? He thinks it's clear to everyone what Potter is thinking about. After all, if he were dreaming about flowers and little fluffy rabbits would he really feel the need to attempt to cover himself with his hands? Well, unless he was more perverted than Draco had ever thought possible – he hopes not. Bestiality is not on his agenda quite yet.

The rest however makes perfect. And it also makes perfect sense, he decides, for Harry to climb on top of him and trail his hands down Draco's sides as he squirms underneath the touch.

What does not make sense – perfect or otherwise – and what Draco cannot quite understand is that as Harry leans over him, their lips inches apart, Potter says 'No more fuckin' Potions Ingredients.'

Draco is still puzzling over it hours later when he hobbles back to his Common Room feeling rather sated and happy that the Git-Without-a-Clue finally managed to become the Git-That-Did-Screw. But he is willing to let it slide. Because even though Potter seems absurdly obsessed with Potions Ingredients he also seems absurdly obsessed with Sex. Which, Draco decides as he falls into bed, is decidedly a good thing.


End file.
